The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

'Thanks, Tinto,' said Eddie.

'But, as it is now, I'd just like to say that neither of you are as good-looking as you look on TV. You're both shorter, too.'

'Ha ha ha,' went Eddie, in a tone that lacked for humour.

'But what happened to Little Tommy Tucker, that was terrible.' Tinto's head spun round and round.

'It was even more terrible right up close,' said Eddie. 'And please don't do that with your head; it makes me feel sick.'

'But it was terrible.' Tinto drummed his dextrous fingers on the bar-top, which further upset Eddie. 'Terrible, terrible, terrible.'

'As if you care,' said Eddie.

'I do care,' said Tinto. 'We all care really, even if we don't own up to it. Society's coming apart, Eddie. You catch this killer before everything goes down the toilet.'

'You don't use a toilet,' said Eddie.

'You know what I mean. You just won't admit that you do.'

'I admit that I don't,' said Eddie. 'Ten beers, please.'

'No,' said Tinto. 'Think about this, Eddie. Toy City is Toy City. It's stable. Nothing ever changes here. We may say that we don't like it, but we kind of do like it. We're used to it. It's all we've got. It's what we've always had. These rich and famous celebrity folk are part of the essential fabric of society.'

'Essential fabric of society?' Eddie made a face. 'What's with all this sudden articulacy on your part?'

'You know what I'm talking about. These killings. They're changing things. Things aren't the same any more.'

'You're not wrong,' said Eddie. 'Ten beers, please.'

'No,' said Tinto. 'I mean what I say. A couple of weeks ago everything was normal. As it ever was and ever would be. Then Humpty Dumpty was murdered. Then Boy Blue and Jack Spratt and—

'All right,' said Eddie, 'I know. Don't rub it in. We're doing our best.'

'Everything's falling apart. It's as if someone is out to destroy the whole city by killing ofFits most famous citizens. Destabilisation. You know what I'm saying?'

Eddie looked at Jack.

And Jack looked at Eddie.

'I think I do,' said Eddie. 'Ten beers, please.'

‘I’ll only give you five,' said Tinto, and he whirred and wheeled away behind the bar counter.

'What do you think?' Eddie asked.

'It makes sense,' said Jack. 'This criminal mastermind of yours could be trying to bring down the entire city, starting from the top. But to what end?'

'All right,' said Eddie. 'Let's think about this. Let's seriously think about this,' and Eddie smote his head. 'Seriously think,' he said, smiting again and again.

'I really hate it when you do that,' said Jack.

'It works,' said Eddie, 'don't knock it.' And he smote his head once more.

Tinto delivered nine glasses of beer.

'I see Eddie's having a good old smote,' he said. 'Although I do constantly warn him that smoting can seriously damage your health.' Tinto chuckled. Jack didn't.

'Tell me, Tinto,' said Jack, 'how long do you think Eddie's been coming into this bar? In years. How long?'

'Well.' Tinto scratched at his tin plate brow with a dextrous fingertip. 'Not that long, I suppose. A couple of hundred years, maybe.'

'A couple of hundred years?' Jack all but fell off his barstool.

'Give or take,' said Tinto. 'I suppose it's quite a long time, when you come to think about it. But then folk like Eddie and me are old-style folk. We were built to last. Craftsmanship, you see.'

'You're winding me up,' said Jack.

'Me winding you up? Is that some feeble attempt at humour?'

'I have it,' said Eddie, bouncing up and down. Tve figured the whole thing out. You're not going to like it, but I have.'

Jack passed Eddie a glass of beer. Eddie took it between both paws and drained the beer away. 'Imagine,' said he, 'that you, Jack, are a criminal mastermind.'

'All right.’ Jack tried to imagine it.

'So what would you want?'

'Whatever you've got,' said Jack. 'And everything else besides.'

'Exactly,' said Eddie. 'You'd want the lot. All of it. Everything. All of this.'

'The city,' said Jack. 'I'd want the entire city.'

'You would,' said Eddie. 'But why would you want it?'

'Because that's what criminal masterminds always "want. Everything.'

'So how would you go about getting this everything?'

'Well,' said Jack, 'personally, I'd gather together a private army, dressed in really stylish black uniforms. And I'd have this secret hideout, in an extinct volcano, with all these special trains that travel along secret tunnels and a Doomsday weapon and this white cat that sat on my knee and—

‘Jack,' said Eddie.

'Eddie?' said Jack.

'Never mind,' said Eddie. 'But what would you do here, in this city?'

'I'd threaten it with my Doomsday weapon.'

'But if, by some chance, you didn't actually have a Doomsday weapon?'

'I would have one,' said Jack.

'But if you didn't!' Eddie made a fierce face at Jack. 'If you only had a very small private army, say three or four assassins at your disposal. What would you do then, in this city?'

'I'd have my assassins kill off all the powerful members of society. Mess things up a bit. And then when the city was in total chaos and everyone was running around like headless chickens, I'd take over. Restore law and order. Seize power. Control it and..."

'Right,' said Eddie.

'Oh,' said Jack. 'Yes, right. And that's what's happening, isn't it?'

'It all makes perfect sense when you piece it together.' Eddie patted his head.

'Not altogether,' said Jack, 'as nothing really makes sense here. But if I was this criminal mastermind, I'm not exactly sure where I'd find these superhuman killer women that turn into spiders. Do you think I'd be able to get them out of a catalogue or something?'

'Not out of a catalogue. But you'll find them mentioned in a Holy Book. Which is where I start getting to the stuff that you're really not going to like.'

'I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Jack took up another glass of beer and drained it away.

‘Jack, something very bad is happening here in the city. Something different. Something new. Something the city has never seen before and doesn't know how to deal with. Something has entered the city. Something really evil.'

'Someone,' said Jack. 'This criminal mastermind.'

'Something,' said Eddie. 'Something that isn't a man and isn't a toy. Something else.'

'You mentioned something about this earlier, when we were walking to Miss Muffett's. Something you didn't want to think about.'

'That's the something,' said Eddie. 'And it's a terrible something. A horrible, frightening something.'

'Do you want to tell me about it now?'

Eddie took up another glass. 'I think perhaps I should,' he said. 'Because, dreadful and unthinkable as it is, it's the only thing that seems to make any sense.'

'Go on then,' said Jack. 'Tell me.'

And so Eddie told him. 'This is what I know,' said Eddie. 'In this city there are a number of religious movements. There's The Church of Mechanology, clockwork toys who believe in a clockwork universe—'

'I believe in that,' said Tinto, who was listening in. 'Because it's true.'

'And there're The Daughters of the Unseeable Upness,' said Eddie, 'which is a foolish dolly cult, and there's The Midnight Growlers, a philosophical movement dedicated to high spiritual ideals and the pursuit of truth and—

'Beer,' said Tinto.

'There's also The Spring and Catch Society.'